


Getting Warmer...

by FridgeWitch



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Easter, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 08:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1218931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FridgeWitch/pseuds/FridgeWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after three hundred years, Jack still hasn't come to terms with his frosty power. He might not show it, but there are days when he wishes he could do anything, BE anything else. After all, what good is power if a touch can hurt the ones you love? Could be seen as romantic if you squint at it, but written with friendship in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Warmer...

Getting Warmer…

Deep beneath the softest topmost soils of the Earth, past the winding knots of ancient tree roots and the jagged clusters of bones from species eons dead, in a vast and marvelous cavern blanketed in an eternal springtime, there sat a rather large rabbit up to his fuzzy elbows in eggs. Paintbrush in paw, he deftly ornamented each egg in its turn; this one with blue polka-dots, that one with silver stripes, another still with orange lightning bolts- the job was never done, it seemed. His canvasses weren’t making the job any easier, either. Rather than wait patiently for their decoration, they tumbled about on tiny feet around the big bunny, climbing over his legs and nestling against the tuft of his tail. A few daring ones even found their way up on to his shoulders, hitching a ride back to the ground on the curve of his spine.

Bunny sighed. March was always the busiest month of the year in the Warren, and it seemed that every batch of eggs he painted was more impatient than the last. Less than a month until Easter, and the little fiends just couldn’t contain themselves anymore. Less than a month and they’d be up to the surface, scurrying through the underbrush, tucking themselves in every crack and crevice they could wiggle into, waiting for that perfect moment when a little hand would reach out for them, and a tiny voice would cry out- “I found one!”

Oh, yes, that was the finest moment any egg could hope to live. But before that, they needed to look their best. And Bunny knew that no two eggs could look alike; that wouldn’t be fair to the children who found them. So he painted until his paws ached and his eyes watered, taking care to make sure each and every struggling piece of artwork was as unique and wonderful as the children who would be hunting for them. 

On this particular day, Bunny found himself more fatigued than he would have liked to admit, which might have explained why he didn’t hear the approach of a very unusual guest in his Warren…  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack crept his way up to the peak of one of the great egg shaped boulders that littered Bunny’s hollow, pressing himself as flat as he would go against its stony surface. With cat-like grace he padded along, bare feet falling as silently as snowflakes in the night. To keep his hands free, he’d tucked his trusty staff beneath his sweatshirt; every step forward rocked the knotted wooden pole between his shoulder blades. As he reached the top of the egg, he unsheathed it. 

He risked a glance over the rock- there was Bunny, his back to the boulder, with a flock of half painted eggs frolicking around him like a hairy momma hen. Jack bit his lip to suppress a laugh. Ol’ cottontail always worked himself way too hard this time of year- it lowered his defenses to an almost embarrassing level. Sneaking up on him wasn’t even a challenge. Jack made a rough estimation of the distance between the rock and the rabbit: twenty, maybe twenty-five feet?

I can make that, he thought.

He tucked his legs beneath him and prepared to spring. First, a stellar dive from the boulder’s peak, silent and swift, then he’d raise a wind to coast him the remaining few feet, snatching Bunny up from his wriggling nest. If he could keep his grip on him for just another few yards or so, he’d have the perfect opportunity to dump the oversized carrot-muncher headfirst into a glitter infused paint stream the most darling shade of pink he’d ever seen. Would it eventually wash off? Certainly. Was it a fairly stupid and childish thing to do? Of course. Did that deter him in any way? Absolutely not.

And so he jumped. His decent started off exactly as planned; arms and legs pulled in close, he sailed the gap in record time, and just a second before the ground rose up to meet him, he felt the familiar tug of a friendly wind at his back. And Bunny still hadn’t noticed him. He reached an arm out, readying himself for the grab. Just another foot and-

“Ah!”

His staff bumped the ground. He’d been flying too low. The bump jarred him just enough to knock him off course, sending him strait for Bunny’s backside. He banked a quick left to avoid crashing into the rabbit, missing him by mere inches. This only further disrupted his balance, however, and sent the winter spirit crashing into the ground, tumbling head over heels along the grassy knoll. He grasped desperately at the earth as he skidded along, trying to slow his rush towards the paint river. He stopped just short of the bank- most of him did, at least; he felt the paint ooze between his toes as his body finally came to a rest. 

“Augh, gross!” he groaned. He gave his feet a wiggle. Yep, they were without a doubt fully bedazzled now. He glanced up. Well, Bunny had certainly noticed him now.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For a long moment, Bunny could only stare at the figure sprawled out before him. He’d heard the cry just a second before he felt a gust of air nearly knock him to the ground. Ears forward, eyes wide, he swept his eggs behind him with two strong strokes of his arms, prepared for battle. But there was no foe to be defeated here, only-

“Jack?” Bunny leapt to his feet. “What on- what are you doing here?” He took a few steps towards his fellow Guardian, the eggs following behind curiously.

“Oh, you know,” Jack grumbled, hoisting himself up off of the ground. “Just makin’ a few snowdrifts up in the old outback Alps and thought I’d”- he shot a look up at the egg boulder “-drop in.” He wiped his feet off as best he could on the grass, but to no avail; his toes still sparkled in a particularly feminine hue. He glowered at them as Bunny pondered the rock above.

“You were planning on-”

“Yup.” Jack gave him a toothy grin. “As you can see, though, it failed in a most spectacular fashion.” He gestured down to his newly rosy toes. 

Bunny gave a huff. “Serves you right. Tryin’ to get the jump on me this close to Easter.” He plopped himself back down onto the grass and took up his brush again. “Unprofessional, that’s what it is, mate.” The eggs once more surrounded him, contented that the danger was past.

As Bunny spoke, Jack silently made his way around the rabbit, inching closer with every step. “Just because you don’t have a quota to meet,” he heard him gripe, “doesn’t mean you can barge in on others and interrupt their workday.” Jack was right behind Bunny at this point. “How do you think North’d feel if you tried to tackle him into a vat of paint less than a month before Christmas?” 

“I get the feeling North wouldn’t be this easy to sneak up on,” Jack replied, wrapping his fingers around Bunny’s sagging ears. He smiled as he felt every muscle in his furry body tense. “What,” he chuckled, “am I cold?”

Bunny let out the breath that’d caught in his throat. He gave himself a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. “No,” he mocked, “Jack Frost, cold? Thought never would’ve crossed my mind.”

Jack dropped his arms down onto Bunny’s shoulders. Had the rabbit been looking, he might have seen the way in which his friend’s eyelids drooped, or how his lips had pursed together into a single pale line upon his face. 

Bunny’s ears gave a twitch. “Now, if you don’t mind mate, I’ve got a lot more- oi!”

Jack had quite suddenly wrapped his arms around Bunny’s neck, burying his face in the fur of his back. “You know,” Bunny cried, “when someone says ‘if you don’t mind’, that usually means bugger off-”

“You’re warm.”

Bunny faltered. “What now?”

Jack gave him a squeeze. “You’re so warm.”

The rabbit wasn’t entirely sure how to react to this reply. “Um… well yeah, mate,” he managed, “Fur and all. Actually gets bloody uncomfortable sometimes…” He felt Jack’s fingers in his fur, clutching onto him as if for dear life. “Are you alright?”

There was a long pause before Jack found the strength to speak.

“I haven’t been warm,” he choked, “in over three hundred years.” Bunny could feel his shoulders shaking. “I can’t even hold someone’s hand without them shivering. So I just…” He trailed off, as if afraid to finish his sentence.

Bunny’s face fell. This was a side of Jack he didn’t often see: a small, lonely soul, barely more than a child in some ways, almost brought to tears because of the very nature of his existence. It was no fault of Jack’s what he was; all of the Guardians had their own problems because of who they were. But Jack was by far the youngest among them, and had spent most of his time alone and without any sort of guidance. He hadn’t learned to cope. What could Bunny possibly do for him?

And then he had it.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bunny rose to his feet, scattering the flock of eggs as he did so. He spun around, brows knit, whiskers twitching, to face Jack.

The young Guardian took a step back. He’d crossed a line, he thought; now he was either in for a boomerang to the face or another dunk in the paint stream, and there’d be more than just his feet to worry about this time. He squared his shoulders and braced himself. He was ready for whatever the over-grown rodent had coming for him.

But he wasn’t. Instead of reaching for his boomerang, Bunny took one slow, deliberate step forward, opened his arms, and pulled Jack into the tightest, gentlest, warmest embrace he’d ever known. He was surrounded by a nest of fur, a pair of strong arms. For a brief moment he was overcome. He was gripped again by that nameless feeling he’d been struck by when little Jamie had first held him; shock, joy, and wonder, all swimming about inside his brain at once, trying to compete for the most attention. Why did hugs always make him so emotional?

“There, now”, declared Bunny proudly. “That better?”

Jack let himself relax, pressing his face deeper into the cushion of Bunny’s chest. “Yeah,” he whispered, “that’s nice.”

They lost track how many minutes they stood there, taking each other in. At some point, the eggs had regrouped, clustering around Jack’s feet in their own little attempt at a group hug. Finally, Bunny gave a shudder and gently pulled his arms away; it was all Jack could do not to reach out and pull him back. “Well, then, mate,” said Bunny, rubbing his paws together. “Bunny’s thermal therapy service is officially closed until further notice.” He flashed a devilish grin. “Can’t be catching a chill this close to the holidays, now can I?”

After a deep breath and a sniffle, Jack tried regaining his composure. “No, I guess not.” He knelt down and retrieved his staff. “Need your strength to outrun those poodles this year, doncha?” He leaned in closer to the rabbit and wrinkled his nose. “When’s the last time you had a bath, by the way?” 

Bunny heaved one massive foot against the boy’s chest. “Door’s over there, frostbite,” he chuckled, sending Jack sprawling. As he lay there laughing, the eggs tottered over to him and proceeded to climb him like some kind of living obstacle course. 

“Oh, now that’s not fair!” he screamed between peals of laughter. “C’mon, stop! It tickles!” 

By now he was gasping for breath. After one final giggle he yelled- “Alright! Alright already! I’m fine now, guys, really.” He scooped an egg up out of hood and clutched it to his chest. “Plenty warm now, I promise.” He looked down at his tiny captive with a smile. Then he noticed something.

“Hey, cotton tail,” he beamed, “look.” He held the egg out at arm’s length, turning it bottom side up for the rabbit to see. Bunny moved in to investigate. And then he choked back a laugh of his own; 

Speckled along the bottom of the egg was a pattern of glittering pink splotches, remnants from its time snuggling at Jack’s feet. Bunny scooped up a pawful of others and gave them a once-over. All of them had been marked with the paint, all along their bottoms and their feet. 

“I guess they’re girl eggs now, huh, Bunny?” Jack asked as he stood. He grabbed an armful of his own, turning each egg over to inspect the damage. “Need any help re-painting ‘em?”

Bunny sighed for the second time that evening. “Maybe,” he admitted, gently returning the eggs to the ground. He gave a mighty, jaw cracking yawn as they scampered away. “I think I need to tuck in for the night first. All of this fun-” He pointed to Jack. “-has worn me out.” Jack chuckled and set his own egg collection down.

“Maybe tomorrow when you’re bright eyed and bushy tailed?” Another toothy grin spread across the ice boy’s face.

Bunny gave a smirk. “You’re on, frostbite.”

With a leap, Jack was airborne, gliding across the Warren on a balmy current that carried him towards the exit. “Just for the record,” he called out to the rabbit as he shrank into the distance, “I’ve never painted an egg in my life!”

He was so far away by now that he could barely hear Bunny’s reply: “Crikey, you’re gonna make an awful student!”

And Jack felt warmth growing inside his breast as he flew away, and he knew it had nothing to do with his body temperature.


End file.
